


He Blinded Me With Science

by rboudreau



Category: Superfruit
Genre: M/M, Mad Scientist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 16:59:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12536700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rboudreau/pseuds/rboudreau
Summary: He was tired. Mitch had first started working on this algorithm when he was in high school, a mere sixteen years old and desperately wanting to find the perfect guy for himself. Everyone had always told him he was asking for too much, that there was no such thing as aperfectguy. Maybe they were right. He felt like he was saying goodbye to his experiments as quickly as they were coming to life.





	He Blinded Me With Science

Mitch typed away at his computer, finalizing the latest algorithm for his experiment. 

He was tired. Mitch had first started working on this algorithm when he was in high school, a mere sixteen years old and desperately wanting to find the perfect guy for himself. Everyone had always told him he was asking for too much, that there was no such thing as a _perfect_ guy. Everyone had flaws.

Mitch was okay with flaws. He just wanted someone who wasn’t flawed where it mattered. He wanted someone smart. Compassionate. Ostentatious. Talented. _Tall_.

When the time came to name his experiment, he recalled all those traits he was looking for, found himself typing S.C.O.T.T. into the computer, murmuring the name over in his head, a soft smile on his face.

**

That was a long time ago. His first S.C.O.T.T. had failed miserably. The hair was all wrong, the characteristic measurements were all over the place, and he’d barely gotten the body alive for more than a second before the years of slaving over the algorithm ended abruptly, the body crashing to the floor still within the glass casing it had stood in. But he had been young, he didn’t know what it was he wanted in a man yet, not exactly.

So he’d tried again. And again. And again. And _again_. He’d tried manipulating the skin color, the height, the strength, the ambition, and _nothing_ had worked. His last S.C.O.T.T. had hurt to lose, he’d been so close to perfect. He’d hoped at 99.5% that his S.C.O.T.T. would last longer, but he’d only had a few minutes before the body had gone crashing to the floor. Mitch had tried to seem as unaffected as possible, telling his assistants to clean up the mess before walking away. But as soon as he’d gotten into his office and closed the door, the tears had come. These S.C.O.T.T.’s weren’t easy to make. He’d spent so long trying to perfect the algorithm, build the body, and then he had to wait years for the information to transfer over to the body before he could even load the simulation. He wanted to prove that this wasn’t a waste of time.

The body was perfect, he knew he’d had the right combination for the last couple of trials. It was all personality now, having to figure out what the right combination was to bring his S.C.O.T.T. to 100%.

**

_99.7%_

Mitch stared at the numbers on the screen, frowning as frustrated tears reached his eyes. He gave himself a minute, knowing he wouldn’t have that much time with S.C.O.T.T. once he uploaded the simulation. He kicked everyone else out of the lab, letting them know he’d call for them when he needed them.

He started to walk across the room, stopping momentarily at the glass case and pressing his forehead against it, staring at S.C.O.T.T. longingly. He slid his hand up the glass, hovering it over the body’s heart. He took a deep breath before walking over to the lever on the wall, pulling it down and moving to sit on a small sofa in the room as the electricity struck the glass case.

He watched S.C.O.T.T. flailing as the electricity started to revive him, felt the familiar thrum of excitement making his heart race. He just wished it would last longer.

By the time the glass case began to rise, Mitch was near tears, knowing he only had a few minutes with his man. He heard the footsteps echoing throughout the room as his S.C.O.T.T. walked to him. The man kneeled down in front of Mitch, resting a hand on Mitch’s knee and giving him a concerned look.

“Mitchy? Are you okay, baby?”

He barely held back a sob, eyes flickering up to meet the beautiful blue eyes he’d taken months to perfect. “Well I think I’ve got the Compassion Meter right, so that’ll narrow it down when I have to redo the algorithm,” he said mostly to himself.

S.C.O.T.T. frowned, a look of disappointment crossing over his face. “So it’s not going to work again this time?”

Mitch tried to force a smile, knew he probably looked evil with the mismatched eyes, the scar on his face, the streak of grey hair across his head. “99.7%. You’re not quite perfect yet, Scotty.” He felt a few tears fall from his eyes, looking away from S.C.O.T.T. even though he just wanted to stare at him for as long as he could. “I don’t know what else to do. I don’t know how to get you to 100%. I’ve tried _so much_ , I don’t know what to do to keep you. I don’t know how to make you better.”

S.C.O.T.T. was quiet for a moment, reaching for Mitch’s hand and lacing their fingers together. “Did you try making my penis bigger?” 

He barked out a laugh, gripping tightly to S.C.O.T.T.’s hand even as more tears leaked down his face. “Trust me when I say there is nothing wrong with your penis. It took me three years to get it right, it’s perfect. But at least now I know your Humor Meter’s working good too.”

S.C.O.T.T. smiled at him, bringing Mitch’s hand to his mouth and brushing a kiss against the back. “How long do we have?”

Mitch felt the emptiness clinging at his heart, trying to protect him from the hurt that another failure would cause. “Last time it was just a few minutes. Probably won’t be much more than that this time.”

S.C.O.T.T. moved to sit beside him, pulling Mitch into his side, rubbing his arm comfortingly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Mitch whispered, burying his face in the man’s shoulder. God, he smelled so good. He felt so real. “It’s my fault. If I could just figure out exactly what I _need_ \--”

“You’re trying your best, Mitchy. It’s okay. You’ll figure it out. You’ve gotten me this far.”

“I’m just...so tired, Scott. I don’t know what to do.”

S.C.O.T.T. kissed his temple softly. “Do you want to...do you want to give up?”

Mitch choked back tears, holding onto S.C.O.T.T. tightly. “I don’t _want_ to. I just need to figure out what’s wrong. I wish I could keep you just like this.”

“Maybe you can try the disco glitter next? You’ve been wanting to try it for years.”

Mitch frowned. “Maybe.”

S.C.O.T.T. ran his hand through Mitch’s hair, smoothing it into something a lot less wild, something that didn’t look like Mitch had been tugging on it since he was sixteen and trying to build the perfect man. He looked younger like this, with his hair calmly laying against his head, even with the mustache Mitch had grown out a few years ago. “What if it’s not necessarily something with me?” S.C.O.T.T. asked. “Your information’s in that algorithm too. What if I’m just not perfect for you _yet_? If you believe everything is right, and I’m already this close to 100%, maybe it’s just a matter of me not being compatible with you right this second.”

Mitch thought for a moment, the wheels turning in his head as he considered the possibility. It could make sense. Mitch had been building someone he’d want to spend the rest of his life with, someone who was perfect for him. He hadn’t even really considered trying to be perfect for his perfect man.

“So...I need to change something about _myself_ instead of something about you?”

S.C.O.T.T. shook his head quickly. “You’re perfect, baby, that’s not what I meant. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, and you’re the smartest person I know. I don’t think this is something you can change with a computer. I can see all your characteristics in my head. We’re compatible in so many ways, even in the ways we’re different. But your anxiety has increased over the years, and your self-esteem has decreased ever since you got the eye surgery. I think it’s making you doubt that you’re worth being loved by someone you’ve created to be perfect. And you can’t fix that with a computer.”

Mitch tightened his grip on S.C.O.T.T., eyebrows furrowed together. “I-I wanted to have one of your eyes, so I could still have part of you with me when you weren’t here. But I look--”

“You look _beautiful_ ,” S.C.O.T.T. interrupted. “Whether you have my eye or not. I’ll always think you look beautiful. But _you_ don’t think so, and that’s going to make you believe that I don’t think so. Maybe if you work on believing me, I’ll be perfect for you, and I can stay.”

Mitch gave him a sad smile. “Wow I really turned your Intelligence Meter up this time, didn’t I?”

“I'm still not as smart as you are. Besides, I think only about half of that was Intelligence. The other half was a combination of Honesty and Passion.” He paused for a moment. “I just wish you could see yourself the way I see you. Because I see someone I can be with forever. Someone who’s smart, who’s funny, who’s sexy, who loves every one of my characteristics, and who has wanted me for so long that he’s put his own growth and mental health on the back burner just to bring me to life.”

He felt another tear escape his eye, sniffling loudly. “I’ll try. I’ll see if that helps. I don’t know how many more failures I can take. I want you so bad. I wish I could reprogram myself like I reprogram you. But I...I’ll try. Cause I really want to keep you.”

“I want you to keep me.” S.C.O.T.T. opened his mouth to speak again and froze. “I...I think it’s almost time.”

Mitch looked at the clock on the wall. It had been almost ten minutes since S.C.O.T.T. had come to life. He swallowed down the lump in his throat, nodded sadly. “C’mere. I wanna hold you.”

He repositioned S.C.O.T.T. so that his head was resting in Mitch’s lap, ran his fingers along the arm he’d designed a flower sleeve tattoo for, though he couldn’t see it beneath the sleeve of his jacket. But he knew it was there, and he knew it was perfect, just like the skull tattoo on his finger that matched Mitch’s own. Everything about S.C.O.T.T. was exactly what Mitch wanted. Maybe he was right, maybe it was _Mitch’s_ characteristics that weren’t matching up perfectly. It wouldn’t hurt to try, not anymore than it already did every time he had to say goodbye.

He had his hand tangled in S.C.O.T.T.’s hair, scratching his scalp lightly, when S.C.O.T.T. shifted a little to look up at him.

“I love you.”

Mitch’s eyes stung with tears, clenched his fist in S.C.O.T.T.’s hair. “I love you too.”

It was a few seconds later, with a smile on his face, that S.C.O.T.T. convulsed before lying lifeless in Mitch’s arms.

Mitch let the tears fall, leaning forward to press his face into S.C.O.T.T.’s shoulder. He let a sob escape his throat, desperately clinging to the boy he wasn’t sure he’d ever have. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, Scotty, I’ll make it better, okay? I’ll try, I promise. I’m so tired of losing you.” 

He gave himself two minutes, letting out all his tears on the suit he’d picked out for S.C.O.T.T. years ago. After two minutes, he wiped his face dry, took a deep breath, turned his brain back into work mode. He moved the body over to the other side of the couch and stood up, giving S.C.O.T.T. one last look.

“I need clean up!” Mitch yelled to the other side of the lab, where his assistants were in another room. “And someone call my fucking therapist!”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I appreciate any and all comments/kudos/critique you are willing to give me. Thanks for taking the time to read this!
> 
> If you want to chat, you can find me on tumblr at [ be-your-own-anchor5](http://www.be-your-own-anchor5.tumblr.com) or on twitter at [ rachelb2010](http://www.twitter.com/rachelb2010)


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